Quid Pro Quo
by Gabtinha
Summary: The Fex is one of the 5 sapient races in Thedas, yet nobody knows much about them. What if one of them joined the Inquisition? I wanted to be able to play with some concepts that I had in mind, like a mage rogue combo and the POV of someone who was not the inquisitor...
1. Chapter 1

**Quid Pro Quo**

 **Chapter 1**

" _Remanso de rio largo,_

 _Viola da Solidão:_

 _Quando vou pr'a dar batalha_

 _Convido meu coração"_ (Nimue's focusing verse)

The heat was unbearable, even for her. Nimue looked for decent shade nearby where she could catch her breath. Perhaps riding to Qunandar would have been better but depriving her people of the very few horses they had was simply not an option. She made her way to a guava tree nearby, gathered some ripe fruit and sat down to eat. She knew she had been selected for this mission because she looked like the humans she was bound to meet along the way.

She was a half-breed. Her mother was a human mage from the Free Marches who was researching herbs in Par Vollen. She was captured by Tal-Vashoth and rescued by a group of Fex warriors. Her father was one of the _aparições do breu_ , a group of magically talented rogues, highly skilled in stealth, daggers and espionage. He was one of the very few that could communicate with her mother in the beginning, having worked for years in the outside world as an _espreitador_ , a spy.

Being a skilled healer allowed her mother to find a place in their society and eventually be considered one of them. Nimue didn't know much more about her. She died during the birth of her younger brother, Raios, and her father could not speak about her mother without bursting into tears. One thing her father always said was that Nimue had her mother's jet black hair and dark brown eyes; unique among the Fex whose hair varied from platinum blonde to bright red and whose eyes were gem like, with varying shades of light blue to hues of purple. She also thought that she had inherited her mother's figure: her hips were curvier and larger; breasts fuller and waist thinner than the other females. She was shorter than a full-blooded Fex, being only a mere six-foot when the average height for a Fex was eight-foot. She was considered quite unattractive among her people who preferred an androgynous look in their males and females.

She was at least three days journey from the gates of Qunandar. From there she would need to catch a boat to Seheron and then Tevinter in order to reach Ferelden, her final destination. Reaching Qunandar would be easy, for the Qunari tolerated the Fex travelling to their cities to gather supplies and do some trading. That happened after the peace treaty was signed. Before the treaty her people were either slaughtered or forced to convert to the Qun. Her biggest problem would be guaranteeing safe passage on a ship leaving Seheron bound for Minrathous. Her chieftain had managed to negotiate with the Arishok on her behalf, using the excuse that she was to buy some medicine from Tevinter healers; this would get her to Seheron but after that she would be on her own devices to get to Ferelden.

Because she was an _aparição do breu_ she learned early on how to conceal her magical abilities from others. She had to be very careful about revealing what she could do; anyone could be a Ben-Hassarah. Her goal was to reach the conclave that was to take place in the Temple of the Sacred Ashes. It could be the opportunity her people needed to negotiate their relocation to the South of Thedas. It was a long shot but it was worth a try.

Nimue ate the last of the fruit and continued on her way to Qunandar, she wanted to get there as fast as her feet would allow.

"Kost Nehraa Sok," said Nimue.

The ship's captain didn't look very pleased with the fact he was carrying a Fex along with the crew. "Kost Neheraa Sok, Basfaran. We leave for Seheron in the morning. I have been instructed to give you safe passage on one of our ships. You are not to leave your cabin unescorted or talk to anyone unless you are addressed first. When we arrive in Seheron you'll be escorted to the markets by a Sten and expected to follow his directions."

Nimue made her way to her cabin. If she were to disappear right in front of the eyes of a Sten she would need to focus her magic for a long time. Any Fex had to focus before they could use their magic. She normally spent her nights focusing so she could use magic the following day. No focus, no magic. So, the more she focused, the more magic she had. She would need enough to be able to stealth out of the Sten's grasp and keep herself hidden until she could find safe passage to Minrathous.

The ship reached Seheron at night after a five day journey. Nimue kept to her cabin, feigning seasickness and managed to spend most of her time focusing uninterrupted, building her reserve of magic. Once they docked the Captain knocked on her door. "You'll be allowed to go ashore in the morning. Sten will be waiting for you after dawn on the deck. No funny business."

The market was set up in the open space of the town square. The buildings surrounding it were terracotta and the ground was covered in little tiles that formed a multitude of geometrical mosaics. The placements of the merchant stalls followed no organisation or order which made the market appear larger than it was. It was a claustrophobic experience; perfumed smells mingled with sharp spices, the voices of vendors shouting over each other about their goods, and the garish patchwork of colours and patterns covering the stalls. In short, it was the perfect place for someone to disappear in plain sight.

Nimue approached one of the thousand herb merchants and started ordering from a long list of herbs and ingredients; Elfroot, Deep Mushroom, Spindleweed, Arbor Blessing…anything she could come up with. She wanted to make the merchant walk back and forth as much as possible looking for stock at opposite ends of the stall. As planned, she noticed that the Sten was starting to lose focus. Suddenly, as if sent by the Creators, a group of Tevinter children chased by two Elven slaves and a woman sprinted in their direction. The woman stopped between the Qunari and Nimue to catch her breath. Nimue squatted, feigning interest in a bunch of herbs in front of her and vanished.

The rest of the trip to Minrathous was easier than she had expected. Either the Qunari didn't bother looking for her or the Sten had fashioned an exceptionally good excuse as to why he came back without the Fex.

Even better, the Sten could have decided it wasn't worth sweating over an explanation and became Tal-Vashoth.

 _Now, that would have been a cracker,_ Nimue thought.

Minrathous was the furthest she'd ever travelled in the world, but then she'd never had cause before. She figured that the best way to proceed was to join a caravan headed for Ferelden. This way would make for a slower trip but it would avoid the risk of getting lost in unknown territory.

It was an uneventful journey, saving for the fact that everybody stared at her like there was something odd about her that they couldn't quite figure out. Some kept commenting on how tall she was. That always made her chuckle.

 _How can people live in this cold?_

 _How can they survive in this Creators forsaken place?_ Nimue thought with a shiver.

It took them almost a month to get to Haven and the weather grew colder with each minute. The fact that it was also snowing didn't help. Nimue had seen the snow just once before but right now she decided that she had already seen enough of it to last a lifetime.

When the caravan finally reached Haven, Nimue made her way to the tavern . She could see the Temple high up on the mountain. Tomorrow she needed to make her way there, but right now she was going to have a warm meal and a good night's sleep. The Temple wasn't going anywhere.

As that thought crossed her mind she heard the explosion and saw the tear rip the sky open. Then, all chaos ensued.


	2. Chapter 2

_"There are no strangers here; only friends you haven't met." (W. )_

There was nothing she could do but wait. There was talk of demons falling from rifts in the sky, whispers about a tear in the Fade, and fevered chatter about a sole survivor of the explosion, a human male that had emerged from the Breach and was being kept prisoner.

Four days after the explosion, Nimue saw a surge of energy on the horizon. For a very brief moment the breach opened and then closed again. Later that evening, what appeared to be military forces started to arrive in Haven. Their main army camped outside the city gates near the lake and the rest of their contingent near the Chantry building. While they were setting up camp, Nimue entered stealth. An invisible person will always have better eyes and ears, especially when it comes to gathering valuable information and keenly observing her surroundings.

According to the talks around town, the Divine had left instructions for the reinstatement of something called the Inquisition. It was to serve as a backup plan in case her attempt to establish accord between Mages and Templars failed, or some other calamity occurred during the Conclave.

 _I guess a tear in the sky and the Temple of Sacred Ashes exploding certainly classifies as a calamity,_ Nimue thought.

Two high-ranking members of the Chantry, The Divine's Left Hand, Leliana, and her Right Hand, Cassandra, were looking for a figurehead to take on the mantle of Inquisitor. Apparently they had searched for a man named Garrett Hawke, The Champion of Kirkwall, and Astrid, the Hero of Ferelden and a Grey Warden. Neither could be found.

The lone survivor from the explosion was a nobleman from the Free Marches, Maxwell Trevelyan. He had been the one to stabilise the Breach after Cassandra had released him. It was due to this act that people had started calling him the Herald of Andraste. Maxwell currently laid unconscious in one of the cabins, his strength drained after defeating a demon.

Alongside Leliana, Cassandra and the Herald, there were a number of others who formed what seemed to be an 'inner-circle'. There was the Antivan woman named Josephine; a crafty and shrewd negotiator who appeared to be acting as their Ambassador. Cullen, the Commander of their growing army and, from what Nimue could gather, a former Templar. They had also brought along an Elven apostate mage named Solas and a Dwarf, named Varric, who seemed to have an unhealthy attachment to his crossbow.

Yet, of all these, it was Cullen who fascinated Nimue the most. To her he seemed a troubled man, not quite comfortable in his skin. He appeared to be something of an anomaly amongst those gathered in Haven. He spent his nights reciting the Chant of Light in the Chantry, or alone in his tent staring at a box he never opened. Nimue wondered if he ever slept. Whenever the Commander walked alone his face seemed full of doubt, as if he second-guessed every decision he made. Amongst his soldiers, however, any apparent insecurities seemed to vanish, replaced by strength and determination. Cullen was an inspiring leader, well loved and admired by all under his command. A man of few words, but his confident, husky voice could rally anyone when it needed to. Nimue was taken by his height, curly blonde hair, amber coloured eyes, and the alluring scar above his lip that drew her eyes to his mouth more often than she cared to mention. He looked fierce and virile in his armour; a lion ready to pounce.

She also discovered that the Inquisition was recruiting volunteers willing to help in their crusade. Nimue made the decision that it would be beneficial to join. It would be the best way to participate in the events that were unfolding and maybe do some good. What had happened on the mountain affected her deeply. She still had reservations about the legitimacy and sincerity of the Inquisition, especially its members, but she figured that perhaps it was too early to judge and besides, what other choice did she have? So, decision made, Nimue headed over to the Scout Major's tent to offer her services to the cause.

When she got there, however, the Scout Major wasn't alone.

"Pellane, I would like to talk to this one myself." A sweet, musical voice with a studied Orlesian accent came from the hooded woman behind the desk in the far corner of the tent. "What is your name?"

Nimue saw she was dealing with a fellow rogue. Simple armour, designed to blend in, but closer observation showed it to be made of the finest materials available. A redhead with beautiful blue eyes, she seemed to be the same age as Nimue. _Of course, the Spy master._

"My name is Nimue."

"Walk with me, Nimue."

They made their way from the centre of Haven towards the frozen lake outside the town walls.

"I have never seen a Fex with black hair before, or one with dark eyes. Most unusual. I suppose it must have been quite a journey for you to get here. Months on the road, having to first escape Qunari territory! Maker, why are you here?"

"You seem to know a lot about my people. Most unusual," Nimue said, avoiding the question.

"I wouldn't be very good at my job if I didn't. You must excuse my manners, I am Leliana."

"The Left Hand of the Divine."

"You know of me." It was not a question.

"I wouldn't be good at my job if I didn't," Nimue replied, smirking.

Leliana laughed. "Indeed. So I am dealing with _an aparição do breu_. You did get a bit sloppy, though. The daggers are a telltale sign. We do not have flint daggers in South Thedas. They are quite beautiful. You call them _adagas_ , yes? Nimue, I know that if you did not want to be seen I would not be talking to you. I also know that you being here is not mere coincidence. You want something, yes? Tell me what you want and if it is within my reach I will help you get it. All I ask in return is that we work together. The Inquisition could most definitely use someone with your abilities. _Quid Pro Quo, Nimue_."

" _Quid Pro Quo_ , you say? All right. My people want to relocate to the south. We thought that by reaching out to the Conclave we would be able to initiate talks about gathering support for the move. I guess now with no Divine, Orlais in war and political uncertainty in all the places we thought would be able to help us, I have no choice but to take on your offer. I'll give you what you want and, in return, you'll give me what I need."

"I ask nothing else. I promise you that if you help us, I'll do anything in my power to help your people."

"Why are you doing this? Why are you being so open and welcoming?" Nimue asked.

"Because neither you or your people has given me reason to be otherwise. Unlike the others, your people has no political agenda other than surviving. You are not of a bellicose nature. I know that your warriors only retaliate, quite proficiently I may say, but they never start a fight. And you, an aparição do breu, only spy to prevent more harm to your people. I really admire those qualities. That is why I want to help. Pellane will assign you a tent. Now, let's have dinner, I bet you are starving, yes?"

 _And that is it; I came full circle_ , thought Alistair. _Ex-Templar in training, former Grey-warden - if anyone can call themselves 'former' with the taint and all – delivery man of unpleasant news and witty one liners; bastard son of King Maric, disgraced traitor, and now, a recruit again_.

"You'll report to Lieutenant Rylen, he is going to show where you'll bunk. Anything else you want to know you'll have to ask him. Go, talk to Harritt, the blacksmith, he is outside the gates, he'll fit you a new armour," Threnn, the quartermaster said looking at Alistair. "You are Ferelden, innit? A soldier your age was probably 'n Ostagar. I served under Teyrn Loghain Mac Tir, best commander this world has ev'r seen!"

"Yep, I was with the company that charged forward and got desolated. Not me though. No desolation of Alistar."

"Alistair, you say? Are you _the_ Alistair?"

"Nope, pretty sure there is more than one Alistair in Thedas. Anyway, I better go. I heard that demons are falling from the sky. Don't want to stay standing still in one place, just in case one decides to fall on my head. That would be... bad."

Alistair made his way to where the troops were training, whoever was in charge knew well what they were doing. _Good leg work, shield aimed a bit down to deflect fire or acid, just like a Templar, just like I was taught... it appears the Commander knows some tricks of the trade,_ he thought.

Among the fighters he saw a tall man dressed in a pelt. Definitely the Commander, _all prim, proper. Better stay clear from him for the time being, until I get my bearings. Don't want to be shoved around like an old relic just yet. Might wait a day or two before pulling the 'look at me! I am an antique from the fifth Blight' trick_ , he thought.

Alistair found Rylen easy enough. He just had to follow the shouts towards a group of recruits that were having a hard time grasping the 'a sword is not a toy' concept.

"Lieutenant Rylen, I am recruit Alistair," he said saluting Rylen.

"Recruit! At ease. Quartermaster Threnn sent the word that I should keep an eye out for you! 'A bloody good one from Ostagar!' she said. I guess I know what she meant, you look you've been through your fair share of fights. I am assigning you to tent number 10, roll A. You'll be sharing with one of Sister Nightingale's people. Go, get yourself settled, dinner is being served in the mess hall. In morning, I want you to meet Commander. I am sure he'll make very good use of you."

"Sister Nightingale, you say?"

"Yes, why?"

"No reason."

The mess hall, from what Alistair remembered, he'd only been in Haven once, used to be an old stable where the town kept the village's horses and some of the livestock during winter. It was a rectangular building with just one entrance and one exit and not many windows.

Entering the building, Alistair noticed that there were two rows, each one consisting of six tables that could comfortably seat ten people. Only three tables were being used. There were hot food stations against the two main walls, across from each other, but just one served food.

Considering the circumstances, Alistair thought dinner was generous. On each table there were jugs of ale and fresh water, baskets with different types of bread and platters with three types of cheese, _Yes! Cheese!_ Pickled vegetables, horseradish cream and thinly sliced black pudding. There were also bowls with fresh lettuce and onions and trays with seasonal fruit. On the hot food station they were serving roast ham, chicken and lamb with carrots, turnips and gravy, Redcliffe pudding; goat's cheese and spinach tarts.

 _At least the food is good_ , Alistair thought. He made his way to the table, piled as much as he could on his plate and sat down with the new recruits.

The conversation was going well until he looked up and saw Leliana. But what really caught his attention was the woman behind her. Long black hair in a braid that fell over her shoulder. Big brown eyes. Her face was different from anything he had seen before, it was quite angular. She was not exactly beautiful, but definitely exotic looking with a very soft semblance. Her skin tone reminded him of the warm milk with cinnamon he used to drink before going to bed as a child. _I wonder how she smells. By the Maker, perfect, bountiful, luscious round breasts, just the right size for my hands to cup. And the way she walks- her hips sway almost melodically!_

He quickly looked back at Leliana. She had recognised him and nodded a cold acknowledgement. That was not what he expected, sure, he was not counting on a warm reunion of an old time friend, but he was certainly not prepared for that.

He tried to look back to his plate but his attention kept being drawn to the woman with Leliana. _At least she hasn't noticed I am gawking at her_ , Alistair thought.

After leaving Leliana, Nimue went to the tent assigned to her. It was made of a dark thick canvas that she hoped would keep most of the cold and moist out. It had two cots and in front of each cot a small armour stand and a trunk for storage of personal belongings. She deposited her gear in one of the trunks and went outside to light the fire and put some water to boil for her personal hygiene. She missed the bathhouse from her village; people from the south didn't clean themselves as much as they should. There was always a lingering strong reek of body odour everywhere she went.

She returned to the tent and started her focusing exercise. Focusing consisted of sitting still and repeating the verse, unique to each Fex, while slowing down breathing. Once breathing was slow enough mana and magic power started flowing through.

Yet, she couldn't focus. Her mind kept wandering back to the man she saw at dinner. He was an impressive figure. Broad shoulders and long strong legs, the well-balanced physique of someone who favoured fighting with a shield. Hazel eyes, honey coloured hair and tanned skin. His face was breathtaking, even the scars added to his beauty; straight nose, and curved lips. That was when she heard someone approaching the tent.

After finishing dinner and playing a couple of hands of wicked grace, Alistair made his way to his tent. He was still thinking about the woman he saw with Leliana. _Good cheese and fascinating women, if it was not for the hole in the sky, I could get used to this!_ he thought.

He chuckled remembering how much of prude and inexperienced he used to be a decade ago. _A virgin, straight out of the Chantry. And then the Blight...Loghain's scheme... and I betrayed the people that I loved the most. Astrid, my 'sister' and best friend, in a moment of childish selfishness, I left her to defend Ferelden and kill an archdemon by herself! Maker, I hope her and Zevran are happy, wherever they are!_

 _Ten years drunk in Kirkwall and I accomplished nothing. Except good tumbles in bed and heroic hangovers. I haven't got anything but regrets, he thought with remorse._ He knew he became a different person with liquor, he forgot everything and only thought of seeking pleasure for himself. Several men and women shared his bed but never for long. He didn't know to live his life sober, at least not the thought of a warm body against his during these cold nights was quite enticing.

Alistair saw someone was already in the tent. He decided to play friendly with his new bunkmate and just burst in introducing himself.

 _Maker's breath, it's her! This will be interesting. Better start talking and stop ogling_ , he thought grinning to himself.

"We haven't met, have we? Allow me to introduce myself. I am Alistair, the newest recruit in the Inquisition. But I guess you already knew that. So I am curious, what's your name?" A _nd there it is! The bumbling idiot that I thought I had left behind years ago. Maker strike me now!_

"Nimue," she said simply.

"Very unusual name. I like it. So, Nimue, what made you want to join the Inquisition? Why do you have daggers? I didn't know Mages used daggers. I thought all Mages were in Redcliffe, and I didn't think Leliana would have one working for them. Not that Mages are useless, or evil… or… you know what I mean…." _Right now, shoving the foot in my mouth would be an understatement._

"Mage? No, I don't know what you mean?"

"You are a mage, right? You see, my background makes Mages nervous and don't want to be turned into a toad. I like the way I am," he said with a nervous laugh. _Great Alistair, just great! Smooth as a Golem in glass workshop._

"I am not a mage. A rogue, yes, but no Mage."

"Are you sure? You do feel like a mage to me. You see, I was trained as a Templar."

"Another ex-Templar? Is that a thing in Ferelden?"

"You lost me there, lady. As I was telling you; I trained as a Templar before I...nevermind, and one thing I can recognise is a mage."

"Well, I guess they didn't do a very good job, because as I said, I am no mage. But again, you said you are not a fully fledged Templar," Nimue smiled at him.

 _Andraste's knickers, that smile. It is like my legs have melted!_ He thought. "But, really? I mean, it is not like I am going around the camp with my arms up yelling 'Apostate! The pretty lady is an apostate!"

"Yeah, right. But, I am no Mage. Do you see a staff? Am I wearing robes? Perhaps a grimoire nearby? I am not a Mage."

"That is really odd. There must be something wrong with me, or perhaps with you. I guess time will tell," Alistair said as he raised his eyebrow.

Nimue left the tent and made her way to the lake, prolonging the conversation was not the best idea at that stage. She was still unsure about Alistair, no matter how gorgeous he was.

It was late, most of the people had already retired for the night, the fires around the camps were starting to die out and a light fog was coming down. When Nimue approached the lake she saw a man sitting on the deck with his legs hanging over the edge. It was the Herald of Andraste.

He seemed lonely and a bit lost without the members of the Inquisition hovering over him. Maxwell Trevelyan was without a shadow of a doubt a warrior. Nimue could see that every big muscle in his body was there for a purpose, nothing for show. Purely manly functionality. He was powerfully built but not extremely tall. She could clearly see he favoured a two-handed weapon. His clothes were of a rich fabric but not extravagant. He wore no rings or amulets, and his long dark auburn hair was neatly tight in a ponytail by a silver cloth band. Nimue could see why some people would consider him a good looking man, bright green eyes and thick eyelashes. She was sure that at least three of the Inquisition's Council were infatuated with him. She couldn't understand why, but she immediately felt like she could trust him completely, which was a very unusual feeling.

Nimue forgot the social rules about approaching a figurehead in human society and just sat beside him, like she would do with any Fex. "How are you holding up?"

Maxwell was startled realising there was someone beside him, "I beg your pardon?" He asked in the strong brogue from the Free Marshes.

"I mean, you go from being the most wanted criminal in Thedas to joining the army of the faithful. Quite an impressive feat," Nimue said.

"I am just glad I survived at all, lass," Maxwell said with a weary smile.

"I guess it is a lot to take in. My name is Nimue. I am one of the scouts working with Leliana."

"I am Maxwell, supposedly the Herald of Andraste, but I guess you already knew that." He smiled.

"Yes, I did. But you didn't really answer my question, besides being happy to be alive. How are you coping with that?" Nimue gestured towards the many tents and campsites in behind them.

"That is really funny, you are the first person to ask. My sincere answer is, I doona know. Nobody asked me if I wanted the fucking cursed job! It was dumped because of this bloody mark! Doona get me wrong, I want to help. I WILL help, lass, all this dogshit about being the Herald of fucking Andraste, pardon my Orlesian, I didn't ask for that. Fucking Cassandra, Leliana and the others dumped this shit onto me! Why not have Cullen as the bloody fucking Herald? He sure looks uptight enough for this religious crap. 'Oh look at me! I am so perfect that even the Holy Templars were not good enough for me!' They can cut my hand off and attach to the Commander for all that I fucking care!" Maxwell threw a pebble into the frozen lake so hard that Nimue heard it cracking the ice. "Look, sorry for dumping all this on you, Nimue. I hope I haven't scared you away from the Inquisition, but you did ask."

"Yes, I did, you are right, but you didn't scared me away, I guess for that I needed to believe this is the work of Andraste in the first place. I don't."

"What do you mean you don't, lass?"

"I don't believe in Andraste, in the way you do, and I think there is more to it. I don't know. There has to be more to the story."

"Quite straight to the point, are we? He said with a big smile.

"Me? Straight to the point? I didn't use a single "fuck" in my sentence, laddie," Nimue said nudging his shoulder. It felt completely natural as if they knew each other from past lives.

"Fucking Ouch. I guess now is my turn, aye? Why are you here? I am sure you would have better things to do, lass."

"Thousands of people died in that mountain. I could have been one of them if I had arrived here earlier on the day. I cannot just walk away and go back to my people. Besides, there is no guarantee that what is happening will not also affect them."

"Your people? I gather from the accent you are not Fereldan? Orlesian?"

"I am from Par Vollen."

"But you are not Qunari. How come?"

"They are not the only ones there. I am a Fex. "

"Really? Fucking oath! I thought your people didn't exist anymore."

"We do. Very few left but we still exist."

"And why was a Fex at the Conclave? You doona have Templars, Mages or even a fucking Chantry, aye? Do you believe in the Maker?"

"Yes and no. We believe in the Creators. We believe they originated all the races in Thedas. So for us, the Maker, The Elven Gods and even the Stone for the Dwarfs are all the same thing: The Creators."

"How about Magic?" Maxwell asked

"It is different for us too. We don't have the 'shooting lighting, rising dead at will' type of magic. Magic doesn't come to us as easy as it comes to humans, elves or even the Qunari. We can only contact the Fade through our focusing but even then, it is very limited. Our priests say that we are not able to go deep into the Fade because we almost never dream. In a way it is good, demons are not able to find us or possess us. In truth, what we have is a quantity of mana that we normally use to help us excel our abilities. But in order to do that we need to focus. The more we focus, more things we can do. I, for example, use my mana to increase the abilities that I was trained: stealth, velocity, daggers and subterfuge. If I wanted, I could disappear in front of your eyes. I guess in this sense we are somewhat similar to the dwarfs."

"I guess you got a good deal there."

"I don't know. I always wondered what dreaming is like. From what I gathered it is something to behold."

"Or something to dread. Dreams can become nightmares."

"I wouldn't know that. I have yet to dream."

"One thing's for certain if the Chantry even suspects you guys still exist, this fucking war between Mages and Templar would have a whole new fucking meaning, but that is something to worry about tomorrow. I guess it is late and if Cassandra doesn't hear me snoring by the time she comes to check - she thinks I don't know she comes to my door every night - she will have kittens!" Maxwell said while standing up.

Nimue couldn't hold herself and burst into laughter thinking about Cassandra and kittens. Maxwell looked a bit amused at first but then started laughing too. When he finally managed to stand up, he offered his hand to Nimue.

"Thank you! That was fucking awesome! Andraste's sagging tits! I needed that talk, Nimue. I hope you don't mind, but I want to call you my friend."

"That would be my _fucking_ pleasure, Maxwell!"

"That is settled then! And we do need to do this again."

"That is a deal!"

Nimue started to make her way back to her tent. Hopefully Alistair was sleeping and she would be able to focus.


End file.
